Page 22 of Taken By The Wolves
She hesitates, then shrugs. “A dining table. In a showroom. With the lights on.”
Finn raises a brow, clearly impressed. Nixon looks like he might combust.
“My turn,” she says. “Finn. Truth or dare.”
He considers, then answers, “Truth.”
Scarlet grins. “Same question.”
Finn leans one shoulder against the wall, relaxed. “Dining table. One I made. Six coats of hand-rubbed oil finish. Sturdy as hell.”
I laugh. “He’s humble.”
Finn shrugs, eyes glinting. “I take pride in my work. All my work.”
Scarlet’s face is flushed now, whether from the wine or the imagery, I can’t tell.
“Reed,” she says, turning to me. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth, baby. Always.”
“What’s your thing? Like, in bed.”
“Oh, we’re going there.” I wink. “Dirty talk. I like using my voice. Filthy things whispered in the dark. I like hearing a woman fall apart from the sound of it.”
Scarlet shifts, her lips parting slightly.
“Your turn,” I say, but before I can ask, Finn cuts in.
“Nixon.”
Nixon lifts his eyes slowly, like he’s only now acknowledging that he’s part of this game.
“Truth,” he growls.
“What’s your thing?” Finn asks, even though he knows. He’s caught onto my game, and he’s playing it like a pro.
Nixon pauses enough to make me nervous, then he admits the truth. “Control.”
Scarlet swallows.
Nixon adds, “Orders. Trust given little by little. I like surrender, not when it’s forced but when it’s given willingly.”
Nobody says anything for a beat.
Then I lean closer to Scarlet with a grin. “And we all like to watch.”
Her fingers tighten around the stem of her wine glass, and her lashes lower like she’s trying to blink something away.
She doesn’t speak right away.
And that pause?
That’s golden.
Because she’s not shocked or offended. She’s thinking about it.
Her voice, when it comes, is quiet…careful.
